Overcome my grief

I want to be able to move on from this constant hurt that I’ve been feeling. It’s been almost a year since I deleted everything, but I’m still feeling it. I miss the e-mails, the comments, and the closeness of what we had. What we shared. And I ended it all with the click of a button. It’s not as devastating as true losses…but still a loss nonetheless. It’s the ending of a close friendship with someone that I still cherish. I was jealous and afraid that we were drifting apart, so what did I do? I ended up making SURE that our friendship would be torn apart by my own actions. And it’s taken me a long time to come to terms with it. There’s no going back to what used to be. It’s gone. It’s devastatingly painful to try to rationalize why I did what I did. I think my misery stems from my inability to forgive myself for making such a stupid and preventable mistake in my past. Unfortunately, you can’t undo the past and reverse your actions since it’s apparently against the rules. If we all could, don’t we all wish we could scream at our old selves, “DON’T DO THAT! YOU’LL BE MISERABLE IF YOU DO!!!” Unfortunately, that isn’t reality. That’s a work of fiction. And if we all had that ability, neither of us would learn from the err of our ways. I’m trying to learn from it and not allow it to swallow me whole. We’re all children of the universe, and we’re never given anything we can’t handle. I have to remember this.

It’s been raining lately and I ask myself, where did Summer go? When did blue skies give way to gray? I never noticed how fast the months, the days, the hours go by. Only the downpour which caught me unaware earlier today, pulled me back from wherever I’ve been. And reminded me that whether I’m aware of it or not, the world revolves on its axis. Time waits for no man, as that cliche goes.

I hate it when it rains. The thought of trudging underneath a weeping sky, is not included in my list of favorite things to do. Silly of me to forget an umbrella. I had to wait at a nearby gasoline station for the rain to abate a little. Sometimes, the downside of living 10 minutes away from work, is that it feels like such a crime to take a cab. I wished I did today though.

As I was waiting for the rain to stop, I rummaged inside my bag for tissues. My fingers brushed over something that felt like paper and I thought I found the half-empty packet of Kleenex that I keep for emergencies such as this.

I was wrong.

Instead of tissues, I managed to pull out an old letter that my Dad has written for me when I was 8 years old. In blue ink, on a yellow, Legal paper are my Dad’s words reminding me to do my homework, to be more patient with my little brother, and to be good to my Mom.

I usually keep this letter between the pages of my journal. It was given to me by my Mother shortly after my Dad died. I can’t remember how it got inside my bag. And I was horrified at the thought of nearly using this precious paper to wipe the droplets of water on my loose-leaf binder.

I don’t know why i’m writing this. I don’t know why I’m narrating this scene. I guess, I just need an outlet. The stealthy arrival of the rainy season, the letter, Rent’s “Season of Love” playing on the radio in that gasoline station, these things—-just made me aware of how much I miss my Father. Still.

Don’t get me wrong, the worst part of my grief is over. But today, tonight, I just felt like a huge piece of me is missing. And the pain of loss was suddenly very sharp again. Staring at that old letter, I was reminded of the very thing that I will never have again, and can never replace.

Tonight, cold and shivering, I was glad for the rain. It helped hide the tears that suddenly came, as the drops of water mingled with the teardrops sliding down my face.

I miss my Dad.

It’s your birthday tomorrow. You would have been 58 if you were still here. And this would have been the second time that you’re not going to be here to blow out the candles on your cake and to read the cards that we always get you. I never realized how much you actually look forward to those cards, those little rituals that we have on your birthday, when at one point, I stopped getting you one and I saw the disappointment in your eyes.

How are you doing? I miss you so much. You not being here always hurts like a physical pain that I carry inside my chest. There are moments when I think I’m ok, but I’ll suddenly see or hear something that reminded me of you and I’d just cry. I know you’d probably laugh. You always think of me as you’re little dissenter, the rule breaker. But I’m also, still, your little girl.

There are so many things that I want to tell you Daddy. I want to tell you that I’m finding it difficult to be strong when all I want to do is cry all day. It would just cause a chain reaction, and it’s bad for Mom to get upset too much. So I just hide my tears…in the shower, in the long walks that I take at night, when I’m alone in my own place. I also want to tell you about how my heart got broken recently…I want to hear you say that it’s all right, and that that person doesn’t deserve me anyway. I want to just spend time with you…it doesn’t really matter what we do. We can talk about anything under the sun…or nothing at all and still the silence will be comfortable. And lastly…I just want to tell you that I miss you.

I miss you so much. And it’s so difficult because I can’t tell Mom about it. That I have to deal with it on my own. Because she misses you more than I do, and she won’t be able to hold me and wipe my tears the way mothers are supposed to do. I have to be the one to do that for her. And even though my heart is shattered and my grief is taking me under, I have to be something else for her. I have to take your place and be her rock. Knowing you’d do the same, knowing that you loved her most, out of all of us.

It’s your birthday tomorrow. I have your card as usual. With the same cheesy poetry that you always seem to get a kick out of. But I wish I could give it to you in person….instead of leaving it on top of your grave…believing that somehow, the wind will carry the words, along with my thoughts and my love, to wherever you are right now.

Work is so crazy right now. I’ve been doing 14 hour workdays for nearly a month now because of the launch of our new account. I barely have time to catch up on my reading and do things for fun.

A couple of nights ago, I was able to go home early. I figured, I’d treat myself to a nice hot bath, wrap myself up in a fluffy robe and just spend the whole night reading magazines. I was able to do that, however my tired feet were killing me. Spending more than 8 hours in 4-inch heels is definitely not good. As my favorite boss would say, people should know by now that choosing fashion over comfort is not always a wise decision.

So I started to give myself a foot massage. While I was pressing my foot, I remembered the time when I did this for my grandmother. She was feeling depressed because she just came out of surgery for breaking her hip. And not being able to move around is getting to her. So to cheer her up, I told her that I’d spend one whole afternoon with her. I looked for this really fragrant lotion which smelled like apples and that’s what I used to rub her legs and feet. While doing this, we started talking about how I was when I was baby. She told me stories of my mom when she was a kid. I was teasing her about her crush for Shane West when she saw the “A Walk To Remember” movie. And we talked about how much she misses my grandpa.

I had to stop what I was doing. It suddenly made me sad because I miss my grandmother. I miss her smile. I miss the way she’d giggle whenever she sees a cute guy on tv. I miss the way she’d run her fingers through my hair to help me fall asleep. I miss going to the market with her. I miss the way she secretly gives me sweets because my mom wouldn’t allow it. I miss sleeping with my head on her lap. I miss the way she’d always take my side when my mom and I fight. But most of all, I miss her. Just her.

I grew up with my grandparents. I stayed with them until I was 8. Back then, my parents would just come visit every weekend because they were working in the city. I always looked forward to their visits and I’d always cry when they leave. But every night, on those weekends, I still choose to sleep beside my grandma. Not with them. Which probably explains the bond that we have.

It’s been more tha a year since she passed away. She was really sick and it really broke my heart to see her like that. I visited her once while she was in ICU, and I couldn’t forget the way she held my hand. It was so tight, as if she never wanted me to let go. When she came out of the hospital she stayed with my Aunt. She just waited for me to come see her one last time. Because the night of my visit, that was the time that she left us forever. She was 84.

The evening that was supposed to be for pampering myself became an evening of remembering instead. I was crying instead of relaxing. But in the end, it turned out to be cathartic.

My girlfriend commented that I rarely watch TV nowadays. And she’s right. I just read and sleep during my free time. What she doesn’t know is that I’m scared of the TV. I dread the sappy commercials showing happy families sharing meals together. I don’t like seeing music videos of songs about saying goodbye.

Yesterday, I was folding my freshly laundered clothes. I was sitting in the living room while M’s watching a music video countdown. When this song by Mariah Carey came up. I think it was “Bye Bye” but I’m not really sure of the title. I couldn’t help it. The tears just fell and it didn’t stop for a long time.

I am better now. But why do I still cry? I’ve already accepted what happened. I’m already working towards forgiving myself. But why does my chest feels like caving in everytime I see ads about family togetherness and all that?

I guess you never really become 100% better…

I was living a charmed life.  I was finally living on my own.  I have friends who love me.  I fell in love with a great person.  I was earning more money than I could spend.  I should have known that when things are too good, fate always has its way of pulling the rug underneath you.

I lost my grandmother and my father last year.  My grandmother was first, then two weeks later, my father followed. 

I felt like I was suckerpunched.  I barely had time to grieve for my grandmother who took care of me until I was 8, when my father suddenly decided to kick the bucket.

I felt like I died too.  There was this great great void inside my chest where they used to be.  I was eating, sleeping, working, talking…but inside I felt nothing.  The colors are not as bright.  My laughter, a little too loud…too fake.  People see me and they thought I was OK.  That I’m strong because I’m taking it well.  But I was screaming inside.  I was drowning in my own misery.  I keep on picturing my grandmother before she died.  Tortured by the thought that she only waited for me to visit her before finally letting go of her fragile hold on life.  I suddenly regret the days that I was not able to be with her when I had the chance.  Too impatient to talk to her.  Too sleepy to spend time with her.

I also keep seeing my father inside my head.  My intelligent, loving, father.  I saw him lying on the bed bereft of life.  I did not see the peace that people usually associate with the dead.  All I saw was suffering, pain, and a desperate wish to keep on living.  He wanted to do so many things.  Wanted to see so many places.  He wanted to see me happy and fulfilled.  But all he saw was a daughter hellbent on following her own rules.  I had so many chances, a lot of fucking chances to spend more time with him.  But I didn’t.  I chose to do something else.  I took him for granted.  Never really imagining that he’s going to be gone forever in a matter of weeks.

I was dead. 

But I realized that the stupid cliche of life going on is still true.  I had to accept the fact that I can’t do anything about what happened.  That I don’t have the power to turn back time, no matter how hard I wished for it.  I also had to swallow the bitter fact that I’m hurting the people I love most by remaining to be this hollow shell, an echo of the person I used to be.

It was hard.  I felt like my lungs, my sanity were going to give.  But I was finally able to break the surface.

And damn!

It feels fucking good to breathe again.